


Saturnalia

by NifflersNogtailsNargles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Relationships, F/F, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NifflersNogtailsNargles/pseuds/NifflersNogtailsNargles
Summary: Hermione misses Midnight Mass with her parents to participate in her first ever Saturnalia ritual. What will she learn about her magic, her place in the world and ultimately herself?My submission for the 2019 Slytherin Cabal (18+) Twistmas Fest
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40
Collections: Twistmas 2019 - A Dark Remix Xmas Fest





	Saturnalia

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Twistmas2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Twistmas2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Midnight mass

**Saturnalia**

**A/N: Hey guys! This is my submission for the Slytherin Cabal's 2019 Twistmas fest. My prompt was : Midnight Mass.**

**So here's my take on what magicals might do on Christmas Eve instead! It's Pansy/Hermione, so be warned if you don't like F/F fics this may not be for you, thanks for reading.**

_Finally._ It had been three long years since the fall of Voldemort, and longer still since they had all had a chance to celebrate this, their most sacred festival, together.

For as far as he was concerned, the only god they should worship was Lord Voldemort. The only words of prayer that should fall from their lips were whispered unforgivables, the screams of the innocent offered up as holy sacrifice to an undeserving god.

It had been hell. The one who was supposed to be their champion had instead become their captor, holding their families to ransom and spitting on the altars of their most sacred traditions.

Pansy had breathed a heavy sigh of relief alongside everyone else when Potter had emerged triumphant; blood-soaked and filthy though he was, he looked every inch the victor. She had cried silent tears and felt the tension lift from her shoulders for the first time since she was fifteen years old, thanking Morrigan and Freya and Hecate and any other higher power she could think of that no one had heeded her panic-fuelled cries to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord in childish hope that the rest of them could be spared.

She cringed even now thinking about it. Of course, he had been annoyingly gracious about the whole thing, insisting that he understood. Even though she knew that he didn't. He was a decent sort of chap that way, and they had struck up an odd friendship during the rebuilding of Hogwarts. It confused and amused their respective friend groups immensely. That was half the appeal honestly, anything that could make Draco whine like a petulant five-year old was just fine by her. She could tell that Harry got a kick out of getting under the blonde boy's skin, and made a point of showing up to any event she had planned when she knew he would be there.

_Oh well, not everyone can grow up gracefully I suppose,_ she thought wryly as she made her final walk through the ritual space. The air was bitingly cold outside the circle, but the bonfire within kept the worst of it at bay. The acrid smell of burning wood permeated the space, and when paired with the richness of the aroma coming from the feast, her mouth started to water. This was a ritual of celebration and excess of the largest scale. Even knowing that, She still thought that Andromeda and Narcissa might have gone overboard on the catering, but she couldn't bear to dampen their excitement. They had been like girls again, so jubilant to be reunited and free to practice within their coven once more. In the large tent at the outskirts of the circle there were roasted meats of every kind, gleaming silver trays piled high with fruits of the everyday and the exotic varieties, Vegetables grilled, fried, steamed and seasoned to perfection. There was what Pansy was certain had to be half the Mediterranean Ocean's share of seafood, and that was all before one considered the dessert table.

_At least there's more than enough wine to wash it down_ , she noted with satisfaction. Narcissa always had the best taste in alcohol. She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the sound of the winter winds laughing as they passed through the naked trees and the loud pops from the crackling fire. She had always loved this time of year, even when she was a girl and had to leave before the real festivities began.

Saturnalia was first and foremost a time of worship, and joy. She had always loved just how _magical_ it all was. She never felt more grateful to be a witch than when she participated in the offering. When she was a girl it had made her feel grown up, and powerful. _This,_ she had thought, _this is what makes up superior to the mudbloods; they'll never understand the true nature of magic, not like we can._ Then she had grown up, and she had pitied them more than anything for their ignorance.

Now that she had been through a war, and seen more magical blood spilled than she ever had any wish to again, she knew how stupid it all was. Blood was always red.

She had decided then, it was her responsibility to Morrigan, and to her own magic, to share her beautiful gifts with the world. No more hoarding sacred spaces, no more looking down on people for not knowing information that pure-bloods purposefully tried to hide from them. That was why, much to her mother's absolute horror and Narcissa's thorough amusement, she had opened up the circle to anyone who wished to come. She had put an announcement in _The Daily Prophet_ , and had provided a list of instructional texts for anyone wishing to participate for the first time. Even if only one or two muggleborn or half-bloods attended, she would consider her mission accomplished.

_This year anyway._

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“I told you Mum, I'm not coming this year” Hermione insisted hotly, annoyed at having the same argument for the third time that week.

“But Hermione, its Midnight Mass. It's important to us!” Her mother replied, arms folded and a stubborn set to her jaw.

“Well this is important to _me._ This is the first time in history the Morrigan enclave has opened their Saturnalia ritual up to muggle-borns and I _can't_ miss it. What if they don't open it next year?”

Hermione ran a hand through her carefully styled hair with a heavy sigh of frustration. Her parents would simply never understand. They thought magic was just a handy tool, all party tricks and cleaning charms. They would never know the way her magic thrummed in her very veins, or the way it felt to cast a _Patronus;_ how it felt like it resonated in her very soul. She didn't just have magic, she knew, she _was_ magic. She wanted to to understand where it had come from, to touch the magic of others and see if it felt the same. Mostly she wanted to say thank you to whatever deity blessed her this way, and that was the primary purpose of the ritual she was to participate in that evening.

“Hasn't magic taken enough from us?” Her father interjected quietly, staring angrily at the slur that was forever etched into her skin. _Mudblood._ She knew he was thinking about her torture, and about the year they lost from their lives that he pretended to forgive her for. The holidays they hadn't taken together because she was busy spending her summers taking care of Harry and Ron. The truths he couldn't share with his own parents and the proud stories he never got to swap with his golfing friends.

She was sick of it.

“Magic has given me more than it has ever taken away. Even if it hadn't I would still choose the life I lead, it's who I am. Sorry to disappoint you so much Dad. Go and enjoy Mass together, we both know you two will have a much better time without me.”

Her eyes were cold and hard as she met her father's. He looked away quickly, unable to hold her gaze as an uncomfortable expression settled in on his heavily lined face.

She didn't bother to wait for a reply as she turned on her heel, grabbed her heavy winter cloak and apparated back to Grimmauld place. She had moved in there with Harry six months and two disastrous Weasley break-ups after the war.

Ginny had broken Harry's heart when he found out that she had fallen for Seamus Finnegan in the year he had left her behind for the Horcrux hunt. She had felt terrible about hurting him, and had tried to break the news gently but Harry hadn't taken it well. He had accepted her explanation, and wished them both well, but Hermione had seen the pain in his eyes. It had taken two years for him to even start dating again, and he had politely turned down the invitation to their wedding five months ago.

Hermione and Ron hadn't parted nearly as amicably. They had both been healing from the trauma of the war, and instead of leaning on each other they had started to lash out, as was their default. The only upside was that the fights had resulted in some truly spectacular sex. They were all passion and anger and pain, and their year-long romance had ended in a maelstrom of bitterness and unresolved issues.

Harry had understood, and when she had moved out of the Burrow he had instantly insisted that she move in with him so that they could be “sad singletons” together. Needless to say his friendship with Ron had taken a frosty turn after that, but the three of them had recently started to mend fences . There were still some things that three people couldn't go through together without becoming friends. The last Hermione had heard, Ron had started dating Romilda Vane and he was cautiously optimistic. _Good for him,_ she thought with a smile.

She hung the cloak on her designated hook by the door and made her way up to her bedroom on the second floor with a heavy heart. Her relationship with her parents was deteriorating so quickly that she barely had a chance to gather up the pieces. It had started slowly, with arguments about her summer and Christmas plans after she went to Hogwarts, and then slowly escalated until she had made the decision to send them away during the war. They had been livid when she had returned their memories to them, too angry to even be grateful that she had survived a war, or to console her on her losses. She wasn't sure they'd ever truly forgive her, but if given the same choice she would do it again a million times over.

She sad down at her white wooden vanity table and inspected her reflection closely. She had worn her hair down and loose as custom dictated, but she had charmed it into smooth ringlets and pinned back the sides to keep some of the more stubborn curls at bay. She had kept her face bare, wanting to enter the ritual space as pure as possible, and added a snake cuff to her ear in deference to the Roman pagan tradition. She looked down at the back of her hands where she had charmed ritual markings. The Celtic symbol of the Morrigan adorned her left hand, while a fierce looking crow sat atop her right. Once she was satisfied with her appearance, she stood up to collect her dress from its place on her wardrobe door.

This was the part that had made her the most nervous. Saturnalia gowns were typically very thin, and almost see-through. She had read that some more hardcore practitioners didn't even wear undergarments underneath to stay as close to nature as they could. Hermione definitely wasn't there yet. She took a steadying breath and slid the gauzy red dress over her head. It fit her like a glove, clinging to her body and falling loosely at her feet. It was by far the most daring thing she had ever worn, but she felt oddly empowered. The deep red was her single nod to her Gryffindor pride, and she was more than happy with her choice; the book had said bright colours after all.

Lastly, she picked up the box that contained her offering for the bonfire and headed down to the kitchen to meet Harry.

“It's too cold to be wearing so few clothes, don't you think?” he pouted. He was shirtless, with a thin royal blue robe and loose matching trousers and underwear. Hermione grinned, she knew that he was less concerned with the cold and more concerned with the almost-nudity. He had never been comfortable exposing himself in any way, but he had filled out rather nicely over the years and she couldn't see that her best friend had anything to be concerned about. She knew at least one person who was going to be very pleased to see him in such a state of undress.

“Honestly Harry, it's a sacred magical ritual, no-ones going to be interested in looking at your bits and pieces” She lied, amused at his bashful expression.

“If you say so”

“I do say so, now lets get going or we'll be late” She tapped her wand to the pretty wooden napkin ring they had been sent to use as a portkey to the space a week before and it started to glow blue.

“Here goes nothing” Harry muttered in a put-upon voice as he grabbed the other end of the ring.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

“Potter, you're late” Pansy snapped as they arrived at the stone circle. Hermione fought off a groan. This was the part of the evening she hadn't been looking forward to. Yes, she had changed a lot after the war, and yes she was a good friend to Harry. That didn't mean she wasn't still a snarky little priss. She was dreading spending an entire evening in her company. Even _Malfoy_ was more tolerable these days.

“Only by two minutes.” Harry protested.

“Two minutes late is still bloody late Potter. Now you better move your arse or you're going to find yourself directly underneath the Longbottoms when their portkey arrives.”

Hermione examined the girl in front of her. Dreadful personality aside, the girl knew how to wear a dress. It was a dark, rich purple, with a high neck, and just as thin and form-fitting as her own, Unlike Hermione though, her dress was without sleeves and she had a golden snake charm wrapped three times around her upper arm. She was barefoot, like everyone else and she could see from where her feet poked out from underneath the floor-length gown that her toenails were charmed the same golden colour as her fingernails.

_And here I expected green,_ Hermione mused, thinking about the colour of her own dress.

_Dear God, am I more predictable than Pansy Parkinson? Unacceptable!_

“Red for Gryffindor. How...utterly expected” Pansy snarked, running her eyes up and down the other girl with apparent disdain.

“Well, it's my colour” she responded sharply, not caring for the other girl's tone.

“Hmm, I always thought you'd look far better in green myself. Come on, this way, let me show you to your places.”

Harry just rolled his eyes and followed her lead, used to the two girls' sniping. Hermione huffed angrily, but did as she was bid.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

_You'd look far better in green? What the fuck was that Parkinson? Get it together!_

She shook herself free of the chastisement; surely no-one else would look any further into her words than necessary. Just her usual sarcastic bitching. Not flirting. Certainly not.

She snorted internally at the thought, people would accuse her of having a secret love child with the Giant Squid before they would suspect her of flirting with Hermione Granger.

But Hecate, she did look phenomenal. The little know-it-all was right as per usual; red was _most definitely_ her colour.

Pansy took a deep breath as the last wixen entered the ritual circle. Weasley, of course. Apparently his inability to be on time for anything was pathological.

“Welcome, brothers and sisters in magic. The Morrigan coven welcomes you to join us in this, our most sacred of ceremonies; Saturnalia. Tonight we are gathered to give our offerings to our patroness, and to receive her blessings. I now declare this circle to be open and unbroken. You may now approach the pyre with your openings.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, this was the first time she had been allowed to lead the ceremony, and despite the abundance of confidence she had been born with she had been more than a little nervous.

She stepped forward, offering in hand. Traditionally, the offerings should represent a victory over ones enemy in deference to the Morrigan and her position on the battlefield. Pansy had chosen the bloodstained robe she had worn at the final battle, she had saved them for this very occasion. These robes were proof that she had lived, while her enemies had perished.

She could feel the air thicken as more and more sacrifices were added to the pile. It was so heavy that it was almost oppressive. She had never known the magic of the ritual to be so responsive before, as if the patroness herself was rejoicing in their victory, and approved of their unity as one magical people. If she weren't so well trained in schooling her emotions she might have cried at the beauty of it.

She stepped back from the fire and began to chant the call for blessings, joining a chorus of freedom and togetherness as different voices overlapped and rang out all at once, a beautiful triumphant symphony.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_

“Alright everyone, thank you for enriching our circle and taking part in this outstanding ceremony. Your participation made this one of the most magical I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing. That being said, it's that time of night, so anyone not of age or not wishing to take part in the festivities pleases head to the designated portkey area. Goodnight and may the Morrigan bless your magic.”

The tears were still drying on Hermione's cheeks as Pansy's voice rang out clear and strong. She hadn't expected to feel so overwhelmed, so _full._ When she had thrown Bellatrix's wand into the fire she had felt rejuvenated, and she had never felt more connected to magic as when she chanted to prayers alongside her fellow magical brethren

She couldn't believe she had considered missing out on this precious gift for the sake of her parents' feelings. She had definitely made the right decision. The ceremony had awoken a part of her that she hadn't known was missing, an aching need to get to know the magic that flowed through the world, and explore and push the limits of what was possible.

“Wow, that was really something eh?” Harry said in a low voice, expression slightly dazed.

“ _Really something?_ As always, your way with words truly humbles us all Potter” a familiar voice drawled, sneer across his annoyingly perfect blonde features.

Harry sighed in annoyance, fully present once more. No-one knew how to ruin a moment better than Malfoy.

“Well you're very welcome then Malfoy. Merlin knows if anyone could use some humbling, it's you”

Hermione rolled her eyes and made a hasty exit to the food tent. She had long grown tired of those boys and their bickering, the unresolved sexual tension between them was exhausting. More than once she had been tempted to just lock them in a room together and have them just get on with it.

She grabbed a goblet of the most delicious red wine she had ever sample, and took a slow wander around the magically expanded gazebo. This part of the ceremony had seemed less interesting to her, the tradition of excess and indulgence. However, now that she was here, and still half-drunk on the magic of the ceremony, she found it more than appropriate.

Although, she had been shocked that even the purebloods seemed to be serving themselves this evening, There wasn't a house-elf in sight, and she most certainly had been looking.

“They get the day off.” A familiar musical voice seemed to answer her thoughts.

“Who do?”

“The house-elves Granger,” Pansy answered with a snort and a roll of her eyes “Sweet Merlin you couldn't be more obvious if you tried”

Hermione felt her cheeks redden. She had never been very good at concealing her emotions, it was why she was such a terrible liar, and and even worse occlumens.

“Well Parkinson, we can't all be emotionless gargoyles” she replied haughtily, trying for a look of contempt.

Her embarrassment must have shone through however, as this response only made the Slytherin girl smirk wider.

“No, I suppose not.” She conceded cheerily, taking a sip from her own goblet.

“So why the day off?” Hermione asked, partly out of genuine curiosity, partly out of an intense need to move on from her embarrassing attempt at verbal sparring.

“Its tradition, on Saturnalia there is no work to be done by the servants, and they are granted one request by their host family. A way to give thanks and show our appreciation.”

Hermione hummed non-committally, it was a nice gesture, she thought, but not the same as true freedom.

“So what about you Granger? Any Muggle traditions you had to miss out on tonight?”

Hermione hesitated before answering, unsure of the motivation behind the other girl's sudden agreeableness.

“Well, my parents wanted me to go to Mass. They're Catholic, and it's an important tradition for them, but I couldn't miss tonight for anything.”

“Of course” Pansy nodded in immediate agreement before a thoughtful expression passed over her face.

“Granger?”

“Yes?”

She took a deep sip from her cup before asking, “What the fuck is a Catholic?”

Hermione giggled, before grabbing the other girl's hand and dragging her to the drinks table once more.

“Okay, I'll explain, but we're going to need a lot of time, and even more wine”

“Excellent, you're a witch after my own heart” Pansy snickered, letting the excitable witch lead her by the hand.

_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+_+  
_

_  
_“...So he died to save a bunch of arseholes who don't deserve it, and then literally came back from the dead?... Granger-”

“ _Hermione”_

“Her too” Pansy agreed drunkenly, causing Hermione to giggle like a mischievous toddler.

“Hermione.” the dark haired girl lowered her voice dramatically “Is Potter Jesus?”

Hermione lost it then, giggles blooming into full-blown belly laughs.

Pansy stared at the other girl in awe, she had never heard Granger- _Hermione –_ laugh before. Her whole face had transformed, all perfect straight teeth framed by full pink lips and the most charming cupid's bow set slightly off centre. Her eyes gleamed with tears of mirth and her wild curls bounced softly as her shoulders shook.

She was fucking _glorious_. So unrestrained and undignified and _un-fucking-ladylike_. She was everything that Pansy had been groomed against, and for a fleeting moment she felt the sting of regret over her own strict childhood. Just for a moment, she wanted to grab Granger by her mess of hair and kiss her, hold her, consume her and claim some of that reckless abandon for herself.

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes as she came down from her laughing fit. Giddy from the abundance of wine and the surprisingly stimulating company, she found herself having the best night she had experienced in a long while.

“I suppose it does fit, in a way” she mused, still smiling brightly, “but yes, to your original point it is more than a little different than what we did here tonight.”

The girls continued walking through the forest that surrounded the ritual space aimlessly, almost empty bottle of sweet red wine dangling from Pansy's left hand, right hand intertwined with Hermione's.

They both walked at a sedate pace, steady on their feet despite the sheer volume of wine consumed by the pair that evening. Each was pleasantly surprised to discover that the silence in the air was comfortable and easy, a far cry from the expected awkwardness.

Hermione used the lull in the conversation to take a moment to drink in the sharp, cold smell in the air and the cheery sound of crickets all around her. She watched what seemed like a thousand glowing fireflies dance around the gently swaying trees and felt so content, so right with herself and her place in the world. It really had been a beautiful ritual.

“Oh My- What the actual fuck?!” Pansy's shell-shocked voice pierced the air, utterly destroying Hermione's moment of quiet contemplation. She sighed heavily before turning around and, not unused to Pansy's dramatics, fully expected to find that a small fox or a rather large spider had crossed their path.

What she hadn't expected to find was a shirtless Harry Potter, attempting to shag a trouserless Draco Malfoy through a tree, completely unaware of their accidental audience.

“Well that's... aggressive” Hermione stated blankly, torn between laughter that the two idiots had finally decided to resolve their sexual tension, and disgust at seeing more of her best friend than she would ever had wished to.

Harry let out an animalistic grunt as he picked up the pace. _Disgusted, most definitely disgusted,_ she decided.

Hermione grabbed her companion by the upper arm and promptly dragged her away from the scene.

The pair took off at a run as they tried to contain their giggles, wind whipping about their faces, turning their cheeks and noses red. They stopped when they reached an upturned log in a clearing far enough away from the amorous activities of their respective best friends. They flopped down, panting hard as they tried to catch their breaths.

“Christ, about bloody time!” Hermione declared with ill-disguised glee,”Those two have been dancing around each other for nigh on a decade. I had seriously considered just throwing them together in a locked room.”

“I can't see that scenario ending well.” Pansy replied with an uncharacteristic grin, “You're such a _Gryffindor_ sometimes Granger.”

“Better that than some slimy snake!” This was said with a sneer, but lacked the bite that had coloured all of their previous interactions.

“Lucky for Draco, Potter doesn't seem to share your views.”

Hermione gave a low chuckle as she swiped the wine bottle from Pansy's hand and took a hearty swig before passing it back

“It was all a bit... angry though wasn't it?” she pondered, blowing a stray curl out of her face.

“Yeah, that's men though isn't it?” Pansy answered wryly, taking another drink of the sweet liquid, “All grabbing and pulling and rushing. All hard bodies and sharp angles, no finesse whatsoever. That's been my experience anyway, limited as it is”

“Limited? I thought that for years you and Malfoy were...?”

Pansy snorted out a laugh at this. “We tried it a few times in school, it was just awkward and painful and pretty much shite no matter what way we tried it. It didn't take long to realise that it Draco was as gay as I was, and that it had been just as terrible for him.”

Hermione was taken aback at Pansy's confession. She hadn't known that the other girl was gay. Not that it would've mattered anyway, of course, but it did make her feel monumentally stupid about the three months the previous year that she had been convinced that she was in love with Harry.

“I had no idea.” Hermione admitted. She usually prided herself on her observational skills, she couldn't believe she had missed this.

“You weren't supposed to Granger, I don't like people knowing my business. Part of being a _slimy snake_ I suppose” She teased gently, unsure why she felt so comfortable baring her soul to a woman who had been barely an acquaintance at the beginning of the night. She felt adrift, uncomfortable being the only one spilling their secrets.

“So what about you? Any sexual skeletons in your closet?”

“Not unless you're interested to know that Ron mutters quidditch trivia under his breath when he's trying not to arrive too early.”

Pansy wore an expression of abject horror at this revelation. “Ugh. I think I could've lived my entire life happily without ever knowing that.”

“Well you did ask” she grinned wickedly, before becoming more thoughtful as she continued to answer the original question, “As to the rest, well, I can't honestly say that I know for sure, I've always been so focused on myself and my academic career that I've never really taken the time to explore that side of myself. I-I can't say that I don't find certain women attractive.”

She admitted the last part quietly, clearly unsure of herself as she ran her eyes hungrily over the woman in front of her. The atmosphere changed at her admission, the air felt heavy and charged, not dissimilar to that felt during the ritual earlier that night. Pansy's breath hitched, pupils dilating as she drank in the sight of Hermione's pink long as it darted out nervously to wet her full, rosy lips.

“Oh really? Anyone in particular _Hermione?”_ She asked, surprised to hear that her voice sounded low and husky as she leaned in closer.

“Don't make it weird Pansy” She laughed throatily, strangely emboldened by the other woman's obvious interest, “Just shut up and kiss me”

Ans she did. The kiss was sweet, a soft brush across her lips so tender it made her want to cry. She returned the pressure just as gently, bringing her hand up to stroke Pansy's face reverently. All of a sudden, she felt a spot of freezing wetness hit her left eye.

She pulled away with a smile, letting her forehead rest against Pansy's.

“Look its snowing” she whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment somehow by raising her voice.

Pansy snapped her head up, look of childish wonder on her face.

“I've always loved the snow” she sighed happily, holding out her hand to catch the gently drifting snowflakes before they melted. Hermione felt oddly privileged to bear witness to this; Pansy Parkinson, unrestrained, joyful, _free._

The two sat there in quiet contemplation for minutes that seemed to stretch out into hours, watching as the snow started to pick up ans lay heavy on the forest floor. Neither cared that they were shivering, they just moved closer together, huddling together for warmth, hands clasped together on that old upturned tree branch.

“We really do live in a different world from the one my parents do. Tonight has been so very different from Midnight Mass.” Hermione declared, finally breaking the blissful moment of quiet.

“Oh, I don't know,” Pansy said with a beatific smile “There were prayers, and songs, and blessings”

Hermione conceded to this with a nod.

“More than enough wine” she continued, indicating the now empty bottle at her feet. “And from what we seen earlier, plenty of body” an exaggerated wiggle of her eyebrows punctuated her point, making Hermione grin.

“No blood though” Hermione added, unable to help herself.

“No” Pansy agreed, her expression solemn all of a sudden, “There's been more than enough blood to last a lifetime. No more blood.” She said firmly.

“Agreed” Hermione said, squeezing her hand tightly, a moment of perfect understanding passing between the two.

Loud bells sounded in the distance then, ringing in the dawn of a new day. Hermione couldn't help but feel that they were there just for her, ringing in the dawn of a new chapter of her life. For the first time in a long time, she didn't know what tomorrow would bring, and she couldn't be happier about it.  
She was truly content.

“Merry Christmas Hermione.”

“Merry Christmas Pansy”

“Oi! Where the bloody hell have you two been, we've been looking for you everywhere!” Harry's booming voice sounded from their left as he approached the clearing.

“I haven't, I was too busy shagging Potter” Draco drawled as he sauntered in behind his paramour.

“Yes, we know” Pansy deadpanned, before the two girls met each other's eyes and dissolved into loud fits of laughter, ignoring Harry's indignant spluttering and Draco's self-satisfied smirk.

Holding her sides as she laughed uproariously, half drunk and glorious, Pansy though that this had been her favourite Saturnalia.


End file.
